27. Callie
27
CALLIE
PAST, ArtFusion Day Five
“Are you ready, Cal?”
Rocky’s excitement brings a smile to my face, despite the nerves swirling in my stomach. I get nervous before every live show. I always have. But this? This is next level, and paired with exhaustion and budding dehydration, I have a real fear that I might vomit on stage.
I don’t tell Rock that, though. Instead, I nod and flash him a thumbs-up.
When I got back to the tent last night, I lay awake for hours replaying the evening over and over in my head. I pretended to be asleep when the guys got back, but I didn’t actually fall asleep until much later. I’m regretting it now.
Just the thought of my night with Torren makes my pulse speed up and the soreness between my legs throb, and for the hundredth time since we got to the stage, I glance around the crowd for his familiar black baseball cap and mirrored aviator sunglasses. He’s not out there. Not yet. But that’s okay. He has to be more careful now that everyone knows he’s here. He said he’d come, so he’ll come.
“Dude, there’s like, a lot of people here,” Ezra says, and when I glance at him, he’s standing with his arms folded, staring out at the crowd. “Like more than I think we’ve ever played for.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you jump from playing dive bars with a couple hundred capacity to music festivals with over a hundred thousand attendees,” I say, my voice breathy, betraying my lack of cool. “You get a much, much larger crowd.”
“What if they, like, hate us?”
I turn all my attention to Ezra. He’s looking a little queasy, so I put my hand on his back and rub gently.
“Ez. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me how fucking amazing we are? And how it’s only a matter of time before we blow up and make it big?”
Ezra rolls his eyes and shrugs. “Yeah.”
I smack his arm. “Then stop saying dumb shit.”
Ezra barks out a laugh and gives me a light shove. “You’re right. You’re right.”
“I know.”
I catch Becket’s eye, and he squints at me before stalking my way. His movements are stiff and angry. I don’t want to go into this show with tension.
As soon as he’s within arm’s reach, he grabs my waist, pulls me toward him, and plants a kiss on my lips. I’m frozen in place, nervous to make a scene. Worried that I’ll fuck up the show. I don’t really kiss him back, but I don’t push him away. I let him kiss me until he steps back with a frustrated huff, and I heave a sigh of relief.
I force a smile. “You nervous?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been playing bass since I was fourteen, Callie. Been playing these songs for a year now. I could do this in my sleep.”
“Good. That’s good. Ezra is worried they’ll hate us.”
“Ezra is a moron.”
I force a laugh and try to ignore his clipped tone. How would I have handled this six months ago? Teased him and told him to stop being so moody, probably. Six days ago? I’d have wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back. But now? I’m just kind of...lost.
“Bro, stop being such a dick,” Ezra’s voice chimes in. “Torren King has the broody bassist market cornered, yeah? We don’t need another one.”
Becket snarls in Ezra’s direction, and I wince.
Awesome. This is exactly the opposite of how we should be going into the biggest show we’ve ever played. But what do I say? Play nice? Am I even allowed to say anything at all, given my activities the last few nights? My guilt battles with my excitement—I don’t want to hurt Becket, but I cannot get Torren out of my head. His hands, his eyes, his mouth. Everything.
Absently, my fingers brush over the hickey under my ear. I’ve covered it with makeup and braided my hair to the side, so it’s well hidden, but I can still feel it. I press my fingers against it slightly, just enough to feel the sting of pain, and I smile.
I’m so fucked.
I bite my tongue and go back to waiting quietly, pretending everything is fine.
When a festival worker tells us it’s time, we line up and climb the stairs to the stage. Ezra first, then Becket, Pike, and Rocky, then me. I’m not exactly the frontwoman—I kind of share the role of lead with Rocky—but the guys like having me come out last. Pike says I’m the interesting one .
I step up behind my keyboard and wave to the crowd, surprised by the number of cheers and applause we get. I flash a smile to Rocky as he slips his guitar strap over his head and winks at me.
“Hey ArtFusion, how are you all doing this evening?” I say into my mic, then I laugh as a roar erupts from the crowd in response. I scan the fringes of the crowd briefly, but there’s no sign of Torren. I shove away the pang of disappointment and plow forward. “We’re Caveat Lover, and we’d like to play some songs for you, if that’s alright.”
I get more cheers and applause, so with a grin and a nod at my bandmates, I place my fingers on the keys and launch us into our first song.
“Thanks for hanging out with us, ArtFusion! We had a great time playing for you. It’s been an honor, and we hope to see you all in a bit for Heartless on the main stage!”
Rocky’s words mix with the shouts of approval from the crowd. The guys throw out their final waves, I blow a few goodbye kisses, and Ezra takes a bow, then we exit the stage in a haze of euphoria. I’m buzzing with excitement. The show was amazing. I’ve never felt this charged after a performance. This is beyond anything we’ve done before, and now that I know how it feels—playing on a level like this—I want more of it. I’m disappointed that Torren never showed, but even that can’t dampen my post-show high.
“Oh my god, I still can’t believe it,” I say, bouncing on my toes and whirling around to look at the guys. “That was fucking brilliant. I can’t believe we just did that.”
“Right? Low-key, I’ve been holding my breath for something to go wrong all week,” Pike adds with a sheepish grin. “Didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
I open my mouth to tease him, but I’m lifted into Ezra’s arms and spun in a circle, making me squeal with laughter.
“Put her down, Ez,” Becket snaps, and Ezra gently places me back on my feet. Becket finally, after what feels like years, makes eye contact with me. “Callie, can I talk to you?”
I swallow and nod, sending the others a smile.
“We’ll meet you guys for Heartless,” Pike says, and then they disappear, leaving me and Becket behind the stage.
“What’s up?”
“I should ask you that,” he says, arms folded over his chest. “You’ve been completely MIA all week, and then I try to kiss you and you go stiff as a goddamn board. What the fuck was that, Callie?”
“I didn’t...I wasn’t...” I say slowly, shaking my head. “You startled me with that kiss. And I was with Pike and Rock and Ez all day yesterday. You were the one who?—”
“And then where did you go?”
I blink at him, but I don’t speak. His eyes scan my face, noting my scrunched eyebrows and my frown.
“Where did you go, Callie? To see your friend from high school ? You didn’t have friends in high school. You’ve told all of us that a thousand times. So where the fuck have you been going?”
My mouth drops open, and the confession falls out immediately. I don’t even try to lie.
“I met someone. A guy.”
Becket clenches his jaw and shakes his head, then he laughs. “A guy. ”
I squeeze my eyes shut and nod. “Yes. A guy. I’ve been hanging out with him.”
“Have you hooked up with him?”
“Yes.”
He scoffs, then silence stretches. When I finally open my eyes, I find him staring angrily at me, and my need to defend myself spikes.
“You said casual , Beck. Last week when I asked you what this was between us, you said casual . You said we weren’t anything serious . Just having fun , remember? You can’t get angry with me for spending time with someone else when you yourself said we weren’t serious!”
“I wouldn’t have said any of that shit if I’d thought you were going to turn around and hook up with some random douche at ArtFusion, Callie! Jesus. It’s not serious isn’t the same as saying go fuck someone else .”
“I didn’t—” I start to protest, but then I bite my tongue.
I don’t even know what to say. I can’t defend myself. I won’t lie, but I can’t bring myself to speak the truth. And fuck, I should be sorry, but I’m not. And damn it, even now, arguing with Becket about how I’ve fucked up our relationship, my pulse still races at the idea of being in Torren’s arms again.
Flashes of being on his lap—of having his hands on me, him inside me—assault me, and the marks on my body sting in a way that makes me have to clench my thighs together.
I’m such a shitty person.
I drag my hands down my face and groan. I’ve never had anything even close to a boyfriend before Becket, and now I’ve gone and gotten myself into this weird love triangle mess.
“I’m sorry, Beck,” I force out. “I didn’t want to hurt you. It just kind of happened, and I thought since?—”
“Who is he?”
My eyes flare and my mouth snaps shut. I won’t tell him.
“Who the fuck is he?”
I shake my head and force a swallow.
“Um...he’s just another attendee. I...um, I met him in the beer line.”
He laughs again, but this time it’s sinister. Cruel.
“Fuck it, Callie. I didn’t think you’d be such a slut.”
“That’s not fair, Becket. That’s so fucking not fair. ”
“What do you call hooking up with a dude within four days of meeting him? In a fucking beer line?”
My jaw drops, and I feel like I’ve been slapped. And what stings the most is that he’s not wrong. Not at all. Teenage obsession or not, I still don’t know Torren King, not really, and that fact makes everything that’s transpired feel dirty. All I know is what I’ve read in the tabloids, and none of it is good. I feel fucking naive, and I hate Beck in this moment for ruining it.
“You’re an asshole and a hypocrite,” I seethe. “You’ve hooked up with girls after a single show. After meeting them for a matter of fucking hours.”
“That’s different. That’s not you.”
“Maybe you don’t know what’s me!”
“I’ve known you for over a year, Calla Lily. I know how you are. Why the fuck do you think I’ve been taking this slow? Why the fuck do you think I’ve been easing us into it? Because I know you don’t do shit irrationally or without thinking it out, and I wanted to fucking respect that.”
I bark out a laugh and let my biggest concern fly out of my mouth.
“Then tell me why you only pursued me after you found out I was a virgin, huh? Tell me why it wasn’t until that fucking game in San Fran that you decided to try and start something with me?”
He clenches his jaw and I step forward, shoving his chest.
“Tell me that my being a virgin had nothing to do with it.”
His nostrils flare, and angry tears sting my eyes. “I’ve liked you for a while, Cal.”
I scoff. “Yeah, but not enough to stop playing up the rock star role and fucking pretend groupies, right? Not until there was an incentive .”
He just glares at me, jaw twitching and brows slanted. God, I was right. I shake my head and roll my eyes. “That’s what I fucking thought.”
I brush past him and stomp my way to the main stage. I don’t look to see if he’s following me. I don’t stop walking until I find the guys, and then I steal Ezra’s drink and chug it. I don’t let myself taste it.
“Cal, that was almost straight vodka,” Ezra says with a laugh when I hand the empty cup back.
“Not anymore. ”
“Where’s Beck?” Pike asks, and I shrug.
“Probably jerking off with his tears as lube after I told him he could give up trying to take my virginity.”
Three pairs of eyes widen at me, and then Rocky reaches into his pocket and pulls out his little baggie of edibles. He bites one in half, then wordlessly hands the other half to me. I pop it into my mouth, chew quickly, and swallow.
“Thanks.” I force a smile. “Now let’s dance our fucking heads off, yeah?”
The opener is an alternative rock band I’ve been a fan of for a while, so it doesn’t take long for me to get lost in the music. The half an edible and the vodka helps, too. By the time their set is finished, I’ve almost lost all the tension from my argument with Becket. I’ve almost embraced the feeling of numbness, and then the chant starts.
Heartless, Heartless, Heartless.
Immediately, my heart kicks up and my stomach flutters with butterflies.
Torren.
The stage lights have dimmed, and people have started pushing toward the stage, so the guys and I let ourselves be carried into a more cramped, bodies-on-bodies, type of pit. The energy and excitement are so palpable that I can’t fight the way my grin takes over my whole face.
“I’ve wanted to see them live forever,” Pike says over the roaring crowd, and I nod.
Me too. It feels different now. Like I’ve got a secret. I’ve got a connection to The Hometown Heartless that no one else does, and the thrill makes me almost lightheaded.
When the spotlight shines down on a familiar silver head of hair, the screams become nearly deafening, and then her low, raspy laugh booms through the speakers. As jealous as I am of Sav Loveless, her voice still gives me chills. She’s an icon. She’s one of a kind. And in this moment, I feel it more strongly than ever before.
The fan posts are right. You don’t get it until you see them live. Not truly.
“That’s what we like to hear,” Sav says, punctuated by a drumbeat from the back of the stage. They haven’t turned on the rest of the stage lights, but I can picture the drummer, Mabel Rossi’s bright pink hair without them. “ArtFusion, how the fuck are you feeling tonight?”
More screams. So many screams. People are whooping and jumping and going crazy, and she’s only said two sentences. I strain my eyes to focus on the shadowy figure just to the side of her. That’s where Torren is. My pulse thrums rapidly in anticipation of finally seeing him.
“We’re The Hometown Heartless. We’re so happy to be here. Now let’s fucking rock.”
The stage lights come on with the opening chords of their first song, and I zero in on Torren. No one else on that stage exists the moment I see him.
God, he looks good.
Black, curly hair hanging in his eyes. Black ripped jeans hugging his long legs. Black vintage band T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, showcasing his tattooed arms, and I can’t help but focus on the way the muscles in his forearms flex as he plays his bass.
I had those hands on me last night.
I had that mouth on my neck. On my breasts. I have the bite marks to prove that it wasn’t a dream.
My smile is borderline creepy, and I let out a giggle that sounds more twelve-year-old girl than nineteen-year-old woman. When Torren sings harmonies into his mic, it gives me chills.
“You think we’ll ever be that good?” Ezra asks in my ear, and I shrug.
“I hope so.”
I’m so enraptured by him that when he steps up to sing with Sav into her mic, my jealousy doesn’t surge right away. They do it all the time. That doesn’t mean they’re back together.
But then the longer I watch, the sicker I start to feel.
The way he looks at her. The way he smiles at her. It’s like she’s some sort of goddess. Like she’s the love of his life. And then that song ends, and it’s like I imagined the whole thing. He goes back to his mic, and I feel like an idiot.
It was nothing. Nothing. They’re broken up.
I repeat this over and over for the rest of the set, but something doesn’t sit right with me. When the lights go down, just before they come back out for the encore, I slip out of the crowd and head to the back of the stage.
I listen to the encore song end, and when I attempt to make my way behind the stage, security stops me. This guy I don’t know, and I sigh.
“I need to get back there,” I say impatiently. I flash my musician badge. “I just played my set. I’m a musician.”
“Sorry, ma’am. VIP performers only.”
My nostrils flare.
“Look, I know Torren King, okay? I’m supposed to meet him.”
It’s a lie, and this guy doesn’t buy it. He just folds his arms and stares at me. He thinks I’m a groupie. I can tell. Hell, I’d think that, too, if I were him.
“I’m not a groupie. I was supposed to meet him. Radio him or something and ask.”
He still doesn’t budge.
I flick my eyes behind him, then survey the surrounding area, looking for a different way in, and then just like last night, an arm drops over my shoulders.
“With me,” Jonah clips out, and the security guy steps aside with one last judgmental glance at me. Jonah leads me behind the stage toward the Heartless bus, but this time there’s a second one.
“That a new bus?” I ask, and Jonah hums.
“A win for Savvy.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and he doesn’t remove his arm from my shoulder.
“Thanks,” I say. He doesn’t respond until we’re almost to the buses.
“You sure you want this, sweets?”
His voice is dead. His words cryptic. When I don’t answer, he stops and looks down at me. His blue eyes, once again, are red-rimmed. His face emotionless.
“Yes or no.”
Slowly, I give him a single nod, and then he starts walking again. When we get closer to the buses, I notice the extra security surrounding them, but no one bats an eye at me. Jonah just slips past them, and within a few more breaths, we’re stepping up between the two buses.
My feet stop immediately, and a ringing fills my ears. The noises don’t break through until my brain fully processes what I’m seeing .
“Didn’t even make it to the bus this time,” Jonah says pointedly, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Torren and Sav. He’s got her pressed against the bus, his hands cupping her face as he kisses her ravenously. Opened-mouthed and sloppy, all tongue and teeth.
He never kissed me. Not once. It’s such a devastating thing to realize in this moment. An eye-opening detail brought to light too late.
Then my eyes fall lower to his pumping hips.
To his jeans around his knees and Sav’s legs wrapped around his waist.
He’s fucking her. He’s fucking her against this bus.
If the flexing muscles in his bare ass and the aggressive thrusting didn’t give it away, the grunting and moaning does. Even the darkness can’t disguise it.
Tears prickle my eyes as I watch, but I can’t look away. Not until Torren moves his mouth to her neck and Sav turns her head in our direction. The way her face is twisted up in pleasure makes me want to vomit. I’m half a breath from turning on my heel and bolting when Torren opens his eyes, and they land right on me. They land, and they stick. They stay on me, freezing me to the spot, until his eyes clamp shut and his mouth falls open on a groan.
Of all the things I thought would happen when I came back here, watching Torren King come inside Sav Loveless wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.
“Don’t take it personally.” Slowly, I tear my eyes from the horrific scene before me and look up at Jonah. He’s lighting a joint. “He doesn’t keep groupies around long.”
It’s the killing blow. The knife to the jugular. I turn and bolt.
I run the whole way across the park and back to the campsite, and when I find Becket, I grab his wrist and pull him into our tent.
“Fuck me,” I command, and he blinks at me.
I strip off my tank top, then unbutton my shorts.
“I’m only giving you this chance once. You want to fuck me? Fine. But make me come first.”